


Shelf Life

by beer_good



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Der Prozess | The Trial - Franz Kafka, Don Quijote de la Mancha | Don Quixote - Miguel de Cervantes, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Prestuplenie i nakazanie | Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky
Genre: Books, Characters Writing Fanfiction, Crack Crossover, Crossover, Gender or Sex Swap, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 18:10:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5426756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beer_good/pseuds/beer_good
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Giles' idea of selling some of his favourite novels at the Magic Box isn't just a bad business idea. When one of Willow's spells inevitably goes wrong, our heroes find themselves trapped in a series of classic novels. Now they have to be good little postmodernists and subvert the hell out of them to get out.</p><p>Buffy/Don Quijote<br/>Buffy/Crime And Punishment<br/>Buffy/The Trial<br/>Buffy/Bad Harry Potter fanfic<br/>+ sundry</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Book The First: In Which There Are No Giants (Don Quijote de la Mancha)

**Book The First: In Which There Are No Giants**

"This is new," Dawn said.

"Hmmm?" Giles looked up from the book he was writing in. It was a normal, fairly slow afternoon in the Magic Box. Willow and Tara were researching a spell at the big table, Anya was doing the accounts, Giles was doing... watchery work, and Dawn was just browsing among the shelves she was allowed to browse among.

"This." Dawn pointed at the sign on one of the shelves. "'Fiction'?"

"Oh, yes. Yes, it's new." Giles nodded to Xander and Buffy as they entered the store. "We sold so much at Hallowe'en that we had some free shelf space. So when I stumbled across a book clearance sale, I thought... why not. I've been reading so many ancient mystical tomes these last few years, and it's been a long time since I've had time to read the great masterpieces of literature. Now at least I can sell them."

Buffy went over and joined her sister at the new shelf, which held a jumble of old bound volumes, vintage Penguin paperbacks and some newer books in flashy covers. "And you're sure this is a good idea? I mean, magic shop and everything..."

"Well, there's the odd cataloguing problem. I'm still not sure if that big compendium on the history of leprechauns shouldn't qualify as fiction, and of course we've had  _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_  under 'Hell Dimensions' since we opened. But apart from that, I don't see what could possibly go wrong."

Just then there was a bang and a flash over at the table where Willow and Tara were sitting. Willow looked up wearing guilt-face as green smoke rose from the herbs they'd been working on and quickly spread throughout the shop. "...Oops?"

And the walls of reality folded, and they fell...

***

"OK,  _ow_." Xander sat up, rubbing the sore spot on the back of his head. He brushed the dust off his face, shielded his eyes from the bright midday sun and looked around for the others. They were all doing much the same thing; they hadn't fallen far, but far enough to have the wind knocked out of them when they hit the hot, hard dusty plain. 

Hot, hard dusty plain?

"Um... where are we?"

Buffy bounded to her feet and looked around. Yup, a hot, dusty plain, with hills and mountains all around, and a few greener patches here and there. "Beats me. Looks like something out of a Western movie. Arizona?"

"How can we be in Arizona?" Willow asked. "I mean, we were in Sunnydale just a few seconds ago, and..." She checked her watch. "Yup. Seconds. And then... um... Oh. Ooops. Sorry."

Giles calmly cleaned his glasses. "Willow, what was that spell?"

"I-it was... nothing, really, just a... um..."

"It was supposed to be an amazonian kindlich spell," Tara clarified, also highly embarrassed. "It's used to look inside books, which -"

"We all do that. It's called  _reading_." Anya wasn't happy.

"Sure," Willow said. "If you can read and understand and absorb a book in 2 seconds flat as if it happened to you, yeah. We thought it would be helpful for research, but..."

"...Instead it took us to  _Arizona_?"

Giles had put his glasses back on. "I don't think we're in Arizona."

"Are you sure? 'Cause that looks a lot like a cowboy coming down that hill over there..." Buffy pointed.

"They don't have mediaeval windmills in Arizona." Giles pointed in the other direction. And sure enough, on top of one of the other little hills was a wooden windmill, sails turning slowly in the light breeze.

"Huh. So where..." Buffy paused. "Do you hear something?"

The sound of approaching hoofbeats was drowned out by a loud "SANTIAGOOOOO!" as the horseman Buffy had seen earlier came galloping towards them, waving a broadsword. The sun glinted off his armour, dented from many battles (or possibly lack of maintenance). Luckily, he wasn't a young man and his horse was almost as old as he was, so they had no trouble stepping out of the way in time. The clearly unaccustomed rider rode right past them, then slowed his scrawny old nag down and turned it around to charge them again. But he needed both hands for that and after first trying and failing to find the scabbard, he lay the sword in his lap, from where it promptly fell to the ground. "'Sdeath," he muttered, then addressed them in a loud, if somewhat shaky voice. "Yes, you do well to run, moors, for I have come to teach you a lesson and free the pious Dulcinea, whom you've taken hostage! Watch as I spring from the horseback to -"

The Scoobies winced collectively as the old man tumbled from the horse and landed on his armoured ass with a loud 'CLANK'. 

"Oh," Giles said. "I suppose we're in Spain." 

Dawn, fresh from English class, stared at the old rider who was trying to get up. "You mean that's..."

"I'm afraid so. One of the books I put on the shelf the other day was Cervantes'  _The Ingenious Hidalgo Don Quixote of La Mancha_. It appears the spell has somehow done the opposite of what it was supposed to do; rather than have us absorb the books, it has inserted us into the book's narrative. Which is rather ironic, since the plot is that he thinks he's living in an old tale of brave knights, virtuous maidens, and vicious monsters."

Don Quixote, in the meantime, had managed to collect his sword and armour and now strode towards them. "This is your last warning, heathens! Unhand the fair Dulcinea, or I will be forced to cut you down where you stand!" 

Xander frowned. "Dulciwho? OW! That hurt!" 

Luckily, the nobleman's sword was even older and duller than himself, and his attack on Xander didn't really do much more than ruffle his hair. Quixote barely broke stride as he stepped up to them and wobbled down on one knee in front of Tara. "Fairest Dulcinea, fear not. Thy knight is here to free thee from these barbarous huns..."

"Hey!" Willow stepped between them. "Keep your huns to yourself!"

Quixote raised his sword to strike her, which was Buffy's cue to decide that this had gone on quite long enough. "OK, I'll take that. Thank  _you_." She grabbed the old man's wrist, making him drop his sword with a pained yelp.

"Alas," Quixote cried, "I am disarmed, soon to be vilely slain! A tragic death is mine, cut down in the dawn of my youth -"

"Try twilight," Xander mumbled.

"- a martyr, sacrificing my own salvation to serve the greater good! O woe!" He looked at the mortified Tara, pleading. "Milady, all is lost. Thy greatest knight has fallen. Without me, thou shalt surely suffer the most horrendous fate."

"You gotta be kidding me," Buffy groaned and let him go. "We're not going to kill you. I promise. Now, can't you just go fight that windmill over there or something?"

"Unhand me, villain!" Quixote sobbed theatrically and turned back to Tara. "Milady, I am yours. Command me, and I shall obey. If it is thy will that I slay yonder mighty giant," he pointed at the windmill, "then I shall."

"I - no, it's OK, Will." Tara held off Willow's attempt at staying between her and the deluded old man, and instead bent down in front of him. "Look, I appreciate being, um, rescued, but can't you just... go home? Stop pretending to be a knight fighting imaginary battles for good and evil? Because, well..." She quickly turned to Giles and whispered, "Doesn't he die at the end?" 

"Oh yes."

Tara turned back to Quixote, and Willow put her hand on her shoulder in support. "Go home and be safe and live your real life. That's my command." 

There was a hint of relief on Quixote's face as he looked up at her. "If that is your... I mean thy command, fair Dulcinea, then I shall obey." He struggled to his feet and called for his horse. "Rocinante! We have a new quest!"

As the old man galloped away the same way he'd come, leaving the windmills unfought, Buffy turned to Willow. "Well, that was fun. So, Spain. Timetravel. How do we get home, and do we have time to hit the beach first? Did they have beaches in the middle ages?"

"Yeah, uh, about that. Remember how back at the Magic Box we had this spellbook, and these herbs, and eye of newt...? Well, this place looks remarkably newt-free. Which, y'know, under normal circumstances, yay, but..." Willow shrugged and held out her empty hands.

"...But you need those things in order to break the spell?" Giles asked. 

"Pretty much."

"So we're stuck in 15th century Spain?"

"Don't be absurd, Xander," Giles reassured him. "It's early 17th century Spain."

"Um... guys?" Dawn interrupted their discussion and pointed to the horizon. "Does that usually happen in Spain?"

They all looked. The thing that didn't usually happen in Spain was the way the horizon was rising, as if the entire world was a huge sheet of paper being rolled up. The red dirt lifted up into the clear blue sky, higher and higher, until the ground suddenly rose up under their feet. Then the horizon folded down over them, and once again they fell.

They fell through a blur of confusing images and stories. They fell for what felt like forever.

And finally landed on the floor of the Magic Box, where they lay gasping for a few seconds before all simultaneously cracking a pun about the book being a page-turner.


	2. Book The Second: In Which Nobody Gets Murdered (Crime & Punishment)

**Book The Second: In Which Nobody Gets Murdered**  
  
With the spell that had sent them into the narrative of one of Giles' books seemingly broken, the gang breathed a sigh of relief and started to get back to what they were doing earlier. In Buffy's case, that meant tying her hair back and going into the back room to work out. 

She was back again ten seconds later. "Uh... guys? Didn't we use to have a back room?"

The others agreed, but couldn't deny that the back room was gone, and the door opened on a dirty alley that didn't look like any alley they'd ever seen in Sunnydale. When they walked out the front door, at least it had the good sense to open onto a street, even if it was a street where horse-drawn carriages drove by, men and women in fancy hats and headscarves walked by speaking politely to each other, and the occasional wild-eyed youth hurried past muttering to himself. 

Xander sighed. "I don't think we're in Kansas anymore."

"We were never in Kansas, Xander."

"It's a figure of speech, Anya. It means -"

"Well," Willow offered, "seeing how we live in Sunnydale we were never really in Kansas figuratively speaking either. I mean, it's pretty much Oz 24/7. The place, not the... just the place," she quickly added with a self-conscious look in Tara's direction.

"Alright already. We're not in  _Sunnydale_  anymore. Again. So where are we?"

"Kansas?" Dawn guessed, pointing at a couple of farmers walking by. "Like, 19th century?"

"I don't think so," Giles mused. "Going by the buildings and how everyone is dressed, I would guess Russia, probably S:t Petersburg. If the spell is still active, that means we're probably in Tolstoy or Dostoevsky, though I'm not sure which novel exactly."

"So how come everyone's speaking English?"

"Well, obviously I only carry the English translations." 

"Obviously."

"Right, so let's get back to the -" Buffy turned back to the Magic Box, then immediately turned back again with a frustrated moan. "Oh, that's just  _great_."

Everyone looked. The Magic Box was gone, replaced by a storefront where an old toothless woman sold vodka, tea, and very black bread. Or to be precise, she wasn't currently selling it so much as refusing to give it – particularly the vodka – for free to the bald, heavy-set and rumpled-looking man who was leaning on the counter. He finally got the message and sauntered off, bumping right into Giles.

"A thousand pardons, Sir," he exclaimed cheerfully, dusting Giles off. "How very clumsy of me – you, clearly a gentleman of great bearing, and me, merely a former counsellor currently down on his luck. I really am ever so sorry."

"That's quite alright," Giles assured him. 

"That is most magnanimous of you, Sir. Marmeladov is my name." The man bowed. "It pains me to ask this of a gentleman such as yourself, but you clearly understand about the plight of those less fortunate. Could I perhaps trouble you for just a few kopeks for something to drink?"

"I... uh... we don't have any..." It took Giles a few minutes to convince the affable drunk that they didn't have any 19th-century Russian currency. Eventually the disappointed Marmeladov bowed and wandered off.

Giles nodded to himself. "Marmeladov. That means we are in  _Crime And Punishment_. I assume everyone is familiar with...?" he looked at a sea of blank faces, then cleaned his glasses while he did the exposition thing. " _Crime And Punishment_  by Fyodor Dostoevsky, considered by many to be one of the most profound dissections of human morality, is the story of a young student named Rodion Raskolnikov who axe-murders an old pawnbroker for her money and justifies it by telling himself he's superior to everyone else. He spends most of the book trying to avoid capture and his own conscience, becoming ever more unhinged, until finally a young, ahem, lady of the night -" he nodded in the direction of the departing Marmeladov – "that man's daughter, persuades him to let his own conscience to take over and hand himself over to the police, and in this, he finds peace."

Buffy frowned. "Huh. Why does that sound familiar?"

"Well, it  _is_  a very well-known story. And I dare say quite a few writers have borrowed freely from it."

"So how does that help us?" Dawn wondered.

Everyone looked at Willow.

"What? I told you, I have no idea how the spell works. We never got to read that far."

Giles sighed. "And it never occured to you to read the whole spell before trying to cast it?"

"Looking back, sure, but on the other hand – spoilers? No fun."

"Uh, I just thought of something," Tara said. "We were thrown out of  _Don Quixote_  after we stopped him from doing something everyone remembers from that book. So maybe the same thing would happen here."

"Uh- _huh_. Which means, literary guy...?" Buffy pointed to Giles.

"I suppose... we have to stop Raskolnikov from committing murder."

 

***

Making their way across S:t Petersburg had been easy but time-consuming; the city and its inhabitants were described in minute detail, and every other block they were stopped by characters who wanted to share their life stories. By the time they reached Raskolnikov's house, it had already become dark. They quickly made their way inside and up to his door, from which they could hear faint moans.

"Aww, crap," Anya said. "We're too late. He's already killing her."

Giles frowned. "Funny, I could have sworn he killed her in her flat, but -"

"Not if I can help it." Buffy kicked the door down and rushed inside. "Alright, axes down, time's up. Turn in your -" She froze.

Raskolnikov was in the room, and he did have female company, but it wasn't the old pawnbroker. And he wasn't killing her, either – if anything, it was Raskolnikov who sudenly looked like he might die of embarrassment. He quickly withdrew and covered himself up in a blanket, while the naked woman who'd been sitting on top of him turned around, wiped her hair back from her flushed face and looked at Buffy. "Oh. Hey, B. I was wondering when you'd show up."

"FAITH?" Buffy stared as the other Slayer casually stepped off the narrow bed and pulled on a t-shirt. "What are you doing here?  _How_  are you doing here?"

"More like who," Faith shrugged and shot a glance at the cowering Raskolnikov. "I've dreamed some funky shit since I've been in jail, but this is a new one. But now that you're here," she grinned, "same procedure as last time? Or are they joining us?" She nodded to the others.

Everyone looked at Buffy.

"Um... staying on non-icky topic – you're just dreaming this? You're still in jail?" 

Faith shrugged. "That's what the big guys in uniform tell me. Atonement and all that, yo."

"WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE?" Raskolnikov had finally found his bearings. "What are you all doing in my room?"

Xander stepped up to the skinny Russian. "We're here to stop you. That's right, game's up, axe boy. We're not going to let you kill her."

"Kill  _who_?"

"The old pawnbroker upstairs."

Raskolnikov stood dumbstruck. "The... pawnbroker, you say?"

"Yeah." Xander crossed his arms, looking intimidating, not noticing that Buffy was wincing and miming "cut" with her hand across her throat. "You were going to chop her up with an axe, take her money, and tell yourself it was OK since you're, like, Napoleon or something."

Raskolnikov cocked his head. "I hadn't thought of that, but now that you mention it..."

" _Nice_  job, Xander." Dawn, Buffy and Willow gave Xander an admonishing shove.

"After all," Raskolnikov was warming up to the idea, "she's a villain, pure and simple; she squeezes money from the poor, her life is useless, but the law says she's in the right. Why shouldn't I kill her?"

"Um, it's illegal?" Buffy looked at Giles. "It  _is_  illegal here, right?"

"Of course."

"Illegal!" Raskolnikov laughed. "Laws, made by those in power to keep the people in servitude. Laws, controlling only those who dare not break them. Would a Mohammed let himself be hindered by an accident of lowly birth? Would Napoleon say 'Oh, I cannot become emperor, it's against the law'? No!" He banged his fist on the table, almost dropping the blanket protecting his modesty in the process. "They did not stop short of bloodshed, and they were right not to! We need new laws if society is to move forward, and so great men are required to break the law! Because something made them different. They are warriors, built to - OW!" Faith smacked him over the back of the head hard enough to have him reeling dizzily for a few seconds. "What did you... um... where was I?"

Faith shot him a death glare. "You were talkin' about how killing people is  _wrong_."

"I was?"

"Oh yes," Giles quickly added. "You were being quite eloquent. A master orator, in fact."

"Yeah, he was doing that when I showed up," Faith said.

"I said  _master orator_ , not -"

"All in favor of changing the subject?" Buffy raised her hand, as did everyone else except for Faith, who was amused at the whole deal, and Raskolnikov, who was busy holding the blanket up.

Giles cleared his throat. "Right then, um, Rodion Romanovich. Are we agreed? Killing is wrong?"

"Of course, Sir." Raskolnikov cast a quick look at Faith, flinching slightly. "Everybody knows that. In fact," he quickly reached for a bottle and a couple of glasses, "may I suggest we drink to it?" 

He poured them each a shot of vodka and started handing them out. Buffy intercepted the one headed for her little sister, but when she wasn't looking, Faith quickly snatched it up and passed it to Dawn with an encouraging smile. They all drank. They all choked on the very cheap and strong vodka, that may originally have been intended for removing paint. They all felt the room spin and dissolve into a myriad of pictures. And suddenly...

"Woah," Willow said. "Yikes. Rough trip."

They all looked around. "Well, at least we're back at the Magic Box," Buffy said. Then her eyes widened. "Dawn! She didn't drink the vodka, she's still back in -"

"Um, standing right -  _hic_  - here."

"Oh good." Buffy relaxed. "It worked without the vodka. Well," she looked around, "at least Faith didn't come back with us."

"No, I guess she's back in prison," Xander nodded. "Sleeping, perchance dreaming..." 

Buffy's look shut him up before he got any further.


	3. Book The Third: In Which There Is No Justice (The Trial + others)

**Book The Third: In Which There Is No Justice**

Someone must have been telling lies about the Scoobies; they knew they had done nothing wrong, but that morning they were arrested. 

"Under arrest for WHAT?" Buffy demanded of the two men, dressed all in black, who had suddenly appeared in the Magic Box to give them the news. 

"That is something we are not allowed to tell you," one of the men replied in a tone that suggested it was the most absurd idea he'd ever heard. "If I were you, I wouldn't waste time with pointless questions, you'll need to prepare your defense. In the meantime," he looked around the Magic Box, "have you considered selling this place? After all, once you're convicted, it won't do you any good anymore, and you're going to need money for a good attourney. We'd be happy to take the store off your hands for a reasonable sum before then."

Giles sighed deeply as Buffy went on arguing with the arresting officers.

"So let me get this straight. We're all under arrest?"

"That's what we said, Miss S."

"And you won't tell us what we're accused of?"

"We cannot."

"And if I ask to see an arrest warrant...?"

"It will be taken as an admission of partial guilt. After all, if there is an arrest warrant, then there must have been a crime, and if you suspect that your name might be on the arrest warrant, then you must have had something to do with it." The man smiled patiently. "And you really don't want to get on our bad side, either. Right now, we're the best friends you have. So, about this place -"

"No. No way. You're getting out of here right this second, and if you think you're bringing us in with you -"

"Oh, you misunderstand me. We are not here to place you in custody, simply to inform you that you are under arrest. You are free to go anywhere as long as you report to the proper court at the proper time for your hearing. Failure to report for your hearing will count as an admission of guilt."

"And how will I know -"

"Naturally, turning up at the proper court at the proper time will count as a partial admission of guilt since in knowing which court is handling your case, you're admitting that you know what you're guilty of."

"But we're NOT guilty. Of anything."

"Of course not, Miss S." The man winked at her, raised his hat and left together with his colleague, who stuffed his pocket with various magic trinkets on the way out. 

Everyone stood there, dumbstruck. "OK," Xander finally said, "what the h-"

"We're in  _The Trial_ ," Giles sighed with that special tone of voice he reserved for impending apocalypses. 

"But that's ridiculous," Xander said. "The spell that threw us into a bunch of books before threw us  _into_  the books. We're in Sunnydale now." He checked the window to make sure. "Yup, Sunnydale. So how can we be in... which book did you say?"

" _The Trial_ , Franz Kafka's final novel, in which the protagonist Josef K is arrested for a crime he hasn't committed. He's never told what it is he's accused of, he's never given a trial, he just keeps understanding less and less until at the end -"

Anya interrupted him. "So what sort of moron would accuse somebody of doing something and not tell them what it is they're accused of? I know a little something about justice, and that makes no sense at all. It's stupid. What's the point?"

"That's what literary scholars have been debating since the 1920s. And the fact that we're still in Sunnydale is probably a sign that not only is the spell still active, but it's starting to break down the walls of reality... or possibly that  _The Trial_  is such a vague and still very relevant work that its setting isn't very important."

Willow shrugged. "So, what's the big? We just find this Joseph guy, give him a happy ending, and problem solved."

Giles sighed. "I'm afraid it's not as easy as that. You see, there is no happy ending in  _The Trial_. That's pretty much the point of it; there is simply no way through it that could conceivably end happily, no choice he could make that would get him off the hook. Everything is stacked against him, everyone who claims to try to help him knows as little as he does, and ultimately it can only end in pointless death."

As if on cue, the little bell above the door jangled as a professionally dressed woman stepped into the store and walked up to them. "So... you're them? Huh. Have to say, you're pretty much what I expected."

"Um... can I help you?" Giles asked.

She smiled, crocodile-like. "It's the other way around, Mr Giles. My name is Lilah Morgan, I'm from the lawfirm of Wolfram & Hart, and I've been hired by the Watcher's Council – who are very disappointed in you, by the way, and want you to know that neither you nor your Slayer have ever or will ever live up to their expectations, no matter what you do – to represent you in this trial that you've gotten yourselves into."

"We haven't -"

"Now, there are three ways I could try to defend you. I could go for an acquittal, which of course only works if you're innocent, so that's out..."

"But we  _are_  innocent!" Dawn protested.

"Of what?"

"Of... uh..."

"Would you mind if I conferred with my colleagues, Miss Morgan?" Giles ushered the others over towards the back of the store. "You see what I mean. I dare say we're, uh, screwed."

"Huh," Buffy said and looked at the big table, where the ingredients for Willow's and Tara's amazonian kindlich spell still sat. "Or we could just break the spell once and for all."

"...Or we could just break the spell once and for all," Giles agreed after thinking about it for about four seconds. "There's just one problem."

"I know what you mean," Tara nodded. "It's not done yet. The spell needs to run its course." 

Xander didn't agree. "Look, we're about to be executed by the German government -"

"Czechoslovakian government, actually," Giles interjected.

"- Czechoslovakian government. I honestly couldn't care less if the precious little spell has run its course."

"I agree," Buffy said. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"Well..." Tara walked over to the bookshelf and pointed at the books. "So far we've gone from classical literature through early modern, and right now we're up to modernism, and the newest book here came out last year... If we break the spell now we'll probably get out of  _The Trial_ , but there's a good chance we'll have all the remaining works dumped on us all at once. P-probably not permanently, but until the magic dissipates..."

"ALL of them?" Buffy groaned.

"At least up to post-modernism. We might be safe after that."

Everyone glanced over at Lilah, who was thumbing through a huge stack of what had to be legal papers with a look of gleeful anticipation that sent shivers down their spines. Buffy turned back to the table. "Right. I say we take our chances with the bookshelf. After all, how bad could it possibly be?"

***

The following hours provided an interesting answer to that question. Giles wasn't much help; having decided the situation required a cup of tea, he made the mistake of dipping a madeleine cookie into it and then sat motionless for hours, lost in memories – which was probably for the best, since it meant that only Dawn had to suffer through Jay Gatsby bragging at length about how much more impressive his own library was. Willow, who had been secretly nursing a geeky hope that the boat she suddenly found herself on would be taking her to the Shire, was dismayed to find herself heading up the Congo instead to find Mr Kurtz. Anya lost herself in a long stream-of-consiousness monologue about sex, which would probably have embarrassed Xander if he hadn't been distracted by the icky – and ultimately very gratifying – situation of catching Humbert Humbert making a pass at Dawn and beating the crap out of him. Tara was nearly driven insane by a band of lunatics including an infernal-looking man in a tall hat, a talking cat, and a very naked woman. Meanwhile, Buffy lay in a trench, ducking gunfire and watching for butterflies. And so on and so forth.

Eventually, the magic dissipated and everything started returning to normal. The bookshelf had tipped over, its contents spilled all over the Magic Box floor, and they all lay panting in front of it when the back door opened and Spike walked in. 

"Blimey, you people are lazy. It's barely dark outside and you're already asleep? If this is what passes for fighting evil these days, I'm almost embarrassed."

"SHUT UP, SPIKE." The vote was unanimous.

He chuckled softly to himself as he looked around, noticing the pile of books and went over to pick one up. "Oh.  _Orlando_. I remember this one, it's the one where the bloke turns into a wo-"

ZAP.

"Um... Will?" Buffy asked, staring in dismay at Spike. "Was it supposed to do that?"

"That was probably the last of the magic. I hope." Willow winced. "Spike? Are you feeling OK...?"

"Oh, I feel just...  _smashing_ ," Spike cooed, stretching her long, womanly legs. "And I've a newfound appreciation for the unfair role of women in society, too."

"Um... do you think we should turn him... her... back?" Tara reached for the spellbook on the table. 

"Why?" Buffy mused. "I mean, it's not  _that_  big a difference, really."

"Also, I don't know about you, but I've had enough books for one day," Giles moaned.

"Yeah," Willow agreed. "Spike? Is it OK if we get back to you tomorrow...?"

"Oh yeah," Spike agreed, feeling her new body. "No hurry at all."

And the twelfth stroke of midnight sounded, and all was well that ended well.


	4. Epilogue: In Which Scotland Is A Silly Place (bad HP fanfic)

**Epilogue: In Which Scotland Is A Silly Place**

"So where the fuck are we now?" Buffy threw her arms up in frustration when they suddenly found themselves standing on a green, rolling hill, surrounded by other green, rolling hills. 

"I'm honestly not sure," said Giels. "If I were to hazard a guess, I would venture to suppose that our location would be situated somewhere in the vicinity of Scotland, but I dare say I don't offer any books set in the Highlands as part of my assortment of..." He trailed off. "What an odd sentence. I don't sound like that, do I?"

"Just keep telling yourself that, G-Man," said Zander before quickly taking on the same puzzled expression that Giels was wearing. "Um... Giels? Why am I mispelt?"

"I..." Giels took off his glasses and started to clean them as he ansered him, then stooped and tried in vein to put his hands on his face. "Good lord. I'm... a completly onedimensional parody of myself."

"And why the fuck would we go to Scotland?" Buffy demanded. "I mean, what's in fucking Scotland?"

"Language, Buffy," Giels admonished.

"What the fuck do you... Fuck!" said Buffy – who suddenly felt like calling herself Raven - and stroked her black hair with pink hilites. "I'm completely fucking out of fucking character!"

"I like money and sex," said Anya.

Willow pulled Dwan aside. "Um, Dwanie? I know it's kind of a secret and all, but... you didn't happen to have some of your fanfic in your backpack, didya?" 

"Right," scoffed Dwan. "As if I can't spell any better than..." She stooped and pointed. "Ooooh! I know where we are! That's Hogwarts!"

Willow, despite the severity of the situasion, couldn't stop a huge grin from spreading on her face (A/N: I know, where else would it spread, right, lol) as she saw the wizarding school loom into view on one of the green, rolling hills. "That's... OK, that's actually sorta cool."

"But that's inconcievable," Giels ejaculated. "The spell, as it were, don't you know, in a matter of speaking, old bean, only affected books in my store... I mean shop, and I wouldn't sell that Scottish woman's books if you paid me to."

"That  _is_  the definition of selling something, you know," scoffed Anya with what was supposed to be a sideways glance at Giels, but failed since she could bearly see him. "God, you really are one-dimensional. I like money and sex."

Willow raised an eyebrow in Dwan's direction, who blushed bright red.

"OK, when I said I didn't have any of  _my_  fanfic with me... um... I'm sort of betaing something for Janice, and... oh, hey Janice!" 

Janice was indeed running towards them, dressed in something that looked like an English school uniform, because Scotland is in England, except that there was no way that skirt was regulation length. "Oh, hi guys! It's like, totally awesome that you're here," she exclaimed, jumping up and down in excitement so much that her iPod flew out of her pocket. "We're having the big graduation ceremony in a couple of days, and Ginny is totally messing everything up. We hate her, don't we? Anyway, I'm Hermione Granger, and -"

"No you're not," Dwan interruped. "You're Janice."

"No!" The impossibly beautiful yet tragically flawed Janice stomped her foot. "I'm Hermione!"

"You're writing a self-insert again, aren't you?"

Terra pointed over Janice's shoulder. "Uh... a-are H-Harry a-and D-Draco d-doing w-what I-I th-think th-they're d-doing?"

"Shut up!" Janice/Hermione yelled. "It's a beautiful thing! They're fated to be together! You're just a homophone!"

"Um..."

"Buffy... I mean Raven? Any ideas?" Zander prodded the Slayer, who was too busy pulling at her hair and listening to My Chemical Romance to notice. The carpenter would have asked the Watcher, except the Englishman had now turned completely one-dimensional and was only bearly visible as a line muttering various polite phrases.

"I like money and sex," said teh ex-demon.

"Ooooh! I have an idea!" Willow started rooting through her bookbag, which had conveniently appeared, and finally found a bunch of pens in different colors. She handed the red one to Dwan. "Here, Dwanie. Go nuts."

As Dwan sighed, grabbed the pen and started betaing the world  **(How does she do that, exactly? Show, don't tell)** , Willow turned to  ~~Terra~~   **Tara**. "Now who's quirky, hmmm?"


End file.
